


The Sound of Wings

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [50]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Artist Castiel, Blind Dean, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, New Kid Castiel, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5823859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And finally Castiel, you will be with Dean.”</p><p>Castiel sighed. Great. Who was Dean, again? Being new to town meant he didn’t know anyone in school. He just hoped that Dean wasn’t the guy in the corner wearing sunglasses. Seriously, was he too cool to take them off or something? Wasn’t it hard to see? Castiel was surprised the art teacher had allowed him to wear them in class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon who asked "what do you think about a highschool AU, where Dean is blind and Cas is a 2D artist?"

“And finally Castiel, you will be with Dean.”

Castiel sighed. Great. Who was Dean, again? Being new to town meant he didn’t know anyone in school. He just hoped that Dean wasn’t the guy in the corner wearing sunglasses. Seriously, was he too cool to take them off or something? Wasn’t it hard to see? Castiel was surprised the art teacher had allowed him to wear them in class, but then again, Mr. Fitzgerald seemed the lax type.

“Hey, Cas!” a voice called through the din of shuffling students as they all paired up at other two-person tables. 

Castiel turned, and sure enough, Sunglasses was waving.

“We’re partners!” he said.

Fantastic. Castiel gathered his books and backpack and trudged over to his partner’s table.

Beside Dean sat an empty stool, which Castiel edged out with his foot. Something clattered to the floor as he did, and when Castiel bent to grab what he’d knocked over, he found a collapsible white pole.

“Hey, did you knock over my cane?” Dean asked.

Castiel froze, the pole in his hands. Cane? Sunglasses? Did that mean…?

Castiel returned the cane to its original position leaning on the table beside Dean. He slid onto his stool and stared at his partner.

Dean shifted to stare right back at him…or so it seemed. They were facing each other, at least.

Dean shoved out a hand. “Hey. You’re the new kid, right?  I heard about you from my friend Charlie. Nice to meet you, new kid. I’m the blind kid. Dean.”

Castiel shook his hand. “Hello, Dean. Um. Sorry I knocked over your cane.”

“It’s all good. Gets in the way all the time.”

“Couldn’t you fold it up to make it smaller?”  

“Well, yeah, I could if it wasn’t broken.” Dean grinned. “Too many lightsaber battles with my brother.”

“Oh.”

Castiel glanced around at the other students, their heads bent together as they discussed their project. He opened his mouth to ask Dean what he wanted to work on when it struck him how ridiculous this was. They were in an _art_  class, and Dean was _blind_. What was he even doing here? 

Well, that was a rude thought.

Castiel mentally back-tracked, scolding himself. “Do you want to get started on the project?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So we’ve got to come up with a theme, and then create three pieces using different mediums that convey the theme, right?”

Castiel blinked. He double-checked the worksheet. “Yes, exactly.”

Dean yawned. “Cool. So what do you want to do?”

“For a theme?”

“Well, yeah, but also the three mediums. What do you say we each do one, and then work together on the last one?”

“Um. Sure. What medium do you like?”

“Watercolor,” Dean said.

Castiel paused, trying to see if Dean was serious or not. He appeared to be, so maybe he wasn’t fully blind? Could he see some colors, perhaps?

But then Dean burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, dude! I can’t see shit! I’m only taking this class so I can work more with clay. I’m a boss at sculpting.”

Castiel cracked a hesitant smile. “Really? I suck at clay. Every time I try to make something, it breaks in the kiln.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed, causing Castiel’s gut to flutter. Until this exact moment, he hadn’t realized just how beautiful Dean was. But honestly? He was _very_  aesthetically pleasing.

“Dude, that _does_  suck!” Dean said. “Maybe you’re making them too thin? I can show you, if you want.”

“I’d like that. I took this art class for more drawing practice. I do sketches with pencil or charcoal, mostly.”

“Sketches like nudes? _Draw me like one of your French girls_?”

“No!” Castiel said, indignant. “Just…still lifes. Some figure drawing, but everyone’s  _clothed_.”

“Huh. Nice. Will you draw me sometime?”

“What?”

“ _What_?” Dean echoed. “Don’t want to challenge yourself trying recreate my perfection?” He slipped his sunglasses down enough to reveal his eyes, which appeared normal, if a tad unfocused. He winked pointedly.

Castiel rolled his own eyes, though his lips tugged into a smirk. Dean didn’t have to know he’d been thinking those exact thoughts, so he changed the subject. “Should we pick a theme now?”

“Sure. How about wings?”

“Wings? I like that idea.”

“Mmhmm. I’ve been meaning to make feathers out of clay for ages. It’d be super badass. I wonder if I could make them as soft as real feathers?”

Castiel reached down to retrieve a notebook from his bag so he could scribble details.

Over the remaining thirty minutes of class, he and Dean mapped out a plan for their project. One charcoal drawing, one clay sculpture, and one–

“You want to put a paintbrush in my hand?” Dean interrupted. 

“Yes. You’re capable of lifting your hand, right?”

Dean huffed. “Obviously. But it’s not going to come out good.”

“It’ll be abstract. You can do broad strokes, like how you picture wings or flying or something, and then I can add details.”

“And you think that’ll work?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Sounds good. We’re gonna kick ass.”

Castiel nodded, then murmured in agreement when he realized Dean couldn’t see his gesture. The bell rang, and the other students packed up their belongings and filed out of the classroom.

Castiel stood and waited for Dean. 

“Do you…want any help?” he asked, preemptively cringing in case Dean reacted badly.

“Uh, yeah, could you take me to my locker? It’s on the first floor. Number 112.”

“Sure. How do you…?”

“Just give me your arm,” Dean said. Castiel held his arm at his side and offered it to Dean, who linked his own arm through. He clutched his cane in the other hand, though he didn’t use it to walk forward as Castiel led him out of the room and into the bustling hallway. 

“So, why wings?” Castiel asked as he steered Dean toward the stairway.

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. I just like the feeling of feathers, and wings sound so cool when birds are flying. You ever sat and just listened to them?”

“No, can’t say I have. Oh, we’re at the first step.”

“Ah, very nice. You’re catching on quickly. Thanks for this, by the way. Makes my life a lot easier. And it helps that you smell good. Old Spice?”

Castiel’s face flamed. “Is this how you talk to all your friends?”

“Nah, I’m much worse usually. They can tell you. And you think we’re friends?”

Castiel’s heart dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“I’m kidding, _geez_. Of course we can be friends. You’re a cool guy, Cas. And I can teach you how this school’s run so you’ll be an expert in no time.”

Castiel smiled shyly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. And seriously, when should I model for you? I’d be happy to do it.”

“ _Dean_.”

But Dean just laughed, and Castiel’s gut fluttered again. 

Little did he know that this would be the start of something wonderful. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The schmoop is strong with this one...

Castiel trotted up the front steps of the Winchester home where he was meeting Dean to work on their art project.

Standing outside the front door, he registered a loud, pounding noise around the sound of his mother driving away behind him. His first thought was that Dean was having a party. It _was_  Saturday, but only a little after lunch. Didn’t most students have parties at night?

Castiel knocked, but it didn’t seem like anyone heard him as long seconds passed. He tried the knob and found it open. Cautiously, he poked his head inside. The moment he did, he was practically deafened by what resolved itself into drum beats. _Loud_  drum beats.

“Hey!” cried a voice, and a late middle-school-looking boy with dark, floppy hair raced over. “You must be Cas,” he yelled over the din as he gestured for Castiel to come inside. “Dean said you’d be coming. I’m his brother, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel said, or rather, shouted, as the drumming continued. His gaze swept over the Winchester home. An open concept with high vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, pictures on the walls, laundry detergent on the air, and most interestingly, no clutter whatsoever. All was neatly organized and out of the way, which Castiel figured was important when living with a blind person. 

“DEAN!” Sam yelled at the base of the stairs, which were just inside the front door. “CAS IS HERE!”

The drumming stopped. A few seconds later, Dean appeared on the upper landing. “Hey, Cas!” He wore ripped jeans and a sweaty, white t-shirt. His face was devoid of his usual sunglasses, so Castiel got to see him in all his glory. And what glory it was, with the sun slanting through the windows just right to illuminate his truly angelic, freckled face. 

Castiel might have to take him up on his offer to model. Seriously, he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect male specimen.

And wasn’t that a weird way to think of the man fast becoming his best friend?

“I’ll come up to you,” Castiel said as he hoisted his book bag over his shoulder and jogged upstairs. He joined Dean and watched as he trailed his fingertips along the hallway walls. 

“My room’s second on the left,” Dean said.

Castiel had been curious what Dean’s room would be like, and he had to admit he was pleasantly surprised. The walls were bare of posters, but instead filled with shelves and bookcases crammed with stuff - machines, old-fashioned cars, a stereo-system and speakers, a record player, CDs and records. What took the largest space was a drum set, which occupied the corner of his room opposite his bed. 

“I didn’t know you played drums,” Castiel said just as his gaze fell on an acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. “Do you play guitar, too?”

Dean shrugged as he shuffled over to his bed. “I dabble.”

“Do you play any other instruments?”

“Whatever I can get my hands on. Sammy’s been trying out the clarinet so I’ve tried his with my own reed. Not a fan of sucking on that kind of wood though, if you get my drift.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Castiel huffed with a grin as he plopped onto the floor. He overturned his book bag and an array of art supplies fell out. “Okay, here’s what I brought.”

From where he lounged on the bed, Dean said, “Care to describe it?”

Castiel winced. “Right. Um. I’ve got my drawing pad and charcoals - I haven’t started my piece yet. I just brought them in case...” In case Dean decided to model for him, but no pressure. He coughed. “I have some bigger paper we can paint on, plus some basic acrylics and brushes.”

“What colors did you bring?”

“The primary ones, plus a gray palette.”

“So these could be rainbow wings?”

“If you want.” 

“Doesn’t make a difference to me, really. But that could be cool.”

They set up on Dean’s floor. Castiel spread out several sheets of the bigger paper so they could paint but it wouldn’t soak through and ruin Dean’s carpet. To help Dean out, Castiel described the location of all the items for his reference. 

They got to work, all the while communicating closely, since this was their collaborative piece. A few times, Dean asked Castiel to guide his hand to the right spot, where he would use the brush or sometimes his fingers to dab or streak different colors.

The piece ended up being rather abstract, but Castiel thought it was beautiful with its sweeping lines and bursts of color. He said as such, and blushed when he noticed that Dean had a spot of white paint on his cheek.

“You’ve got paint on your face,” he added.

“Well, wipe it off already. I don’t want to look like an idiot.” 

Castiel grabbed a Kleenex from Dean’s desk and hesitated. Should he run to the bathroom to get it wet, or just use his spit? Was that gross?

He debated with himself, then told Dean he’d be right back as he dashed to the bathroom across the hall. When he returned, his heart swelled at the sight of Dean lounging next to their artwork, his face peaceful. He was wearing a watch, and pressed a button on the side.

“The time is 4:37pm,” the watch said in a robotic voice. 

Dean glanced up as Castiel entered. “Holy shit, we’ve been working on this for hours! No wonder I’m starving. Hey, are you staying for dinner? My mom will be ordering something out because it’s her turn to cook.” He grinned.

“If it’s not a problem, then I’d love to stay.”

“Awesome.” Dean stood up and braced himself against the door. “MOM! CAS IS STAYING FOR DINNER OKAY?”

“Okay!” drifted up a woman’s voice from downstairs.

Castiel hovered near Dean. “Do you still want me to get the paint off your face?”

“Oh, right. Go for it.” Dean turned his cheek toward Castiel, who awkwardly brushed the damp cloth across his skin. Luckily, the paint came off pretty quick and he didn’t have to scrape at it.

When he was finished, he remained in Dean’s space, so close he could feel Dean’s warm puffs of breath.

“Thanks for working with me,” Dean said at last.

“It was Mr. Fitzgerald who paired us.”

“Yeah, but...you’re here and you’re just...a cool guy, y’know?”

“No, not really.”

Dean snorted. “I’m trying to give you a compliment here.” He grinned slowly. “So how badly are we going to _kill it_ with our project?”

“That’ll depend on your piece.”

Dean laughed, making Castiel’s heart squeeze with affection.

“Hey, we’ve got some time before dinner,” Dean said, once he’d recovered. “Want to start drawing me?”

Castiel sputtered. “What?”

“I told you I’d model for you.”

“Right now?”

“Sure, why not? You’ve got your supplies, right?”

Castiel’s breath came fast. “I do but...are you sure?”

“It’s not like you need to draw me naked! I can sit still.”

Castiel nodded, then cringed when he remembered Dean couldn’t see it. “Alright. Let me get ready.”

Several minutes later, he had Dean carefully situated on his bed facing Castiel, who reclined in the desk chair. Castiel didn’t care about the background of Dean’s room, but he loved the way the late afternoon light back-lit Dean’s whole body so he looked like he was glowing.

Castiel spent the first few moments just observing him, tracing the lines and curves and edges with his eyes before setting his charcoal to a page in his drawing pad. With his brow furrowed, he absently stuck out his tongue. The room filled with the sound of careful, measured scratching. He had to capture Dean’s essence just so. To do otherwise would be insulting to the both of them.

All the while, he felt Dean’s sightless gaze on him. At first, it was a tad unnerving, but then, Castiel grew used to it. Dean’s face appeared so soft bathed in this light, his pink lips so plump and full of life...

It made Castiel want to kiss him, desperately. 

But they were just friends, and only barely that. He’d known Dean what, two weeks now? He couldn’t jeopardize what was between them. 

“Are you done?”

Castiel startled at Dean’s voice. “What?”

“You stopped drawing. Something wrong?”

Castiel glanced down at his sketch. He’d only done the vague outline of Dean’s figure, and had started filling in the details of his face. His beautiful face.

“You’re gorgeous,” Castiel blurted out, and immediately stiffened. 

Dean blinked at him. “I am?” His typical bravado was missing, replaced by a smidgen of self-doubt. 

“You are. You really are.” Castiel’s voice came out quiet. 

Dean’s breath was shaky. “Okay. Um. Hey, Cas. Do you...like me? Because I kinda like you.”

Castiel bit his lip. “What are you talking about? Do you mean like...more than friends?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Dean’s smile was shy, unsure. “I’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s the blind thing, or just _me_ , but.” He shrugged.

“I haven’t been with anyone either.”

“Oh.” Dean nodded. “So do you wanna be with me?”

“You want to go out with me? We haven’t known each other that long.”

“True. But we could get to know each other. _And_  we could make out in the meantime, because I seriously want to kiss you, like real bad. I mean, you smell _really_ good.”

Castiel laughed. “It’s just my deodorant, I swear!”

Dean sidled off the bed and stalked toward him, reaching out with his hands. Castiel grabbed them and yanked until Dean stood next to him.

“What do you think?” Castiel asked, gazing at his drawing. 

“Hmm. I believe you’ve missed a spot.”

“Well, obviously it’s not done yet... Oh god I’m the worst.”

Dean cackled. “You’ll get used to it. I mean, you’re going to be my boyfriend now, right?”

Castiel’s heart thudded as he mustered courage. “Only if we can seal it with a kiss.”

“Of course. Pucker up.” Dean leaned toward him, his lips pursed, and Castiel tutted. 

“Hold on, hold on. Let’s get a better angle.” He rose to his feet and moved Dean until they were exactly opposite each other. Then, with a deep breath, Castiel brought his lips to Dean’s.

There weren’t fireworks, and perhaps not even a spark, but warmth flooded Castiel from the top of his head, to the tips of his toes. 

It felt good, it felt _right_. 

And then Dean's brother burst in, hollering about what they wanted on their pizza, and at his shocked scream, they dissolved into giggles. 

Castiel left that night with a smile on his face, and didn’t sleep a wink because he had to finish the drawing of Dean, now his boyfriend. He might not have wings, but he certainly made Castiel feel like he could fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I was writing some other fic today and found half of this sitting in my writing folder on tumblr. I was like...I better just finish this. So I did! Hurray! Happy Thanksgiving!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always open to requests! Feel free to shoot me an ask at my tumblr [through-shadows-falling](http://through-shadows-falling.tumblr.com/).


End file.
